-guide to the functional

Why should I care for the hidden half of an eyeball, or the virgin arch of a foot? Never meets ground. What’s the point in that?

Leave it to the lesser beings. I study crisp veins on the back of my hand, skittish in the leaving. Leap, like hunger in your gut, deep and near all at once. I once met myself on the street.

I asked: do I know you? My voice shook with that hesitant lilt of the shame that comes with forgetting. It was that time of the day then.

When the sun was bright like it always is. Even when we have left and cannot see it. The wind breathed like it always does and everything was the same. Except the water. The water was moved.

I did not notice this. Though the same sun and the same wind was there, because I knew them. Maybe only because I knew them.

Isn’t it sweet, to think of someone being because you have chosen to realise? I guess I am trying to say there are fragments to this- even though the whole is still whole, even though there is no real division- where you can pull things apart, like broken corpses, or mannequins.

The body is only a sum of the limbs when you forget the torso. A tangle, a bird weave. Maybe even a basket, where you could put yourself either in or out. In or out, which one is it? Choose.

That simple, just don’t look to the thread. The thread serves no one, but the basket. The basket can hold. The thread serves no one, but the needle. The basket knew it would inherit the whole before anyone said so.

But we are here now, all of us, here, now, some mishap in the hand of the world, and we are not prepared to be seen. We’re not ready.

We have scuttled underneath beds and dining tables and behind doors and over ledges. We have even stood there, near walls, closed our eyes and whispered please please don’t please don’t look at me and we are not prepared to be seen now.

I am sorry, but we are not.

You cannot argue with that. However, if you would like to assume-

this responsibility- if you are the type of person who breaks before the gunshot- if you have run harder than ever when your body screams at you to stop- if you have hit the ground dying so you can fall to hell in pieces- then congratulations.

We will consider your proposition.

When you are ready.

The end is yours to keep.


Photo by Ab on Unsplash


To read these pieces in your inbox each week, enter your email in the comments below or let me know at

#death #shortstory #depression #writer #flashfiction #blogging #prose #flashfiction #blog #poetry #poet #poem #story #life #sad

Recent Posts

See All


  • Instagram
  • Twitter
  • goodreads-512
  • images_edited_edited